Summoning for Dummies
by Right What Is Wrong
Summary: An alternate universe's Order of the Phoenix have summoned Harry across the dimensions to save them from Voldemort. He outlines why this was an incredibly stupid idea. Oneshot.


**Author's Note** : I like and read a lot of stories whose premises are... more than a bit daffy.

* * *

Harry took a deep breath. "So... let me get this straight. You conducted this grand ritual, reached across the dimensions, and summoned... _me_ to help you defeat Voldemort?"

The huddled, ragged-looking wizards, apparently this world's Order of the Phoenix, gazed back at him with nonplussed expressions. The alternate Dumbledore frowned at him. "Well, yes, my boy. We of course specified that you _had_ already defeated Voldemort in your own world, so you are our last, best h-"

Harry buried his face in his hands. "Mr. Potter?"

"You are all," Harry said slowly, "bloody morons.

"First of all, unless this dimension's version of the prophecy says 'And his name shall be Harry James Potter', you should have at least one other _actual_ candidate for Chosen One. Neville Longbottom? Ring a bell? And, if the prophecy has any validity, _I am not the Harry Potter specified in it_. I don't know _how_ yours kicked the bucket - Voldemort? Bludger to the head? Rogue Horntail? Doesn't matter now, I suppose - but _he_ was the one for _your_ world, because _I_ certainly wasn't "approaching" all those years ago.

"Second of all, if you can summon people across dimensions _with specifications_ , why, of all people, did you choose _me_? We've just established that _I_ am not the one targeted by _your_ world's prophecy. Therefore, if Trelawney's prophecy had any validity beyond pink elephants conjured up by Aberforth's cheapest brew, I _will not be able to_ deal the fatal blow to Voldemort. Thus you presumably brought me in for your qualifications.

"Here's the problem: _I don't have any._ I am an academically-average seventeen-year-old wizard who defeated Voldemort almost entirely because of sheer luck, heavy assistance, and, oh, a _chunk of his soul in my head_. Oi, lower your wand. It's _gone_ now. It kind of had to be, for Voldemort to die. In fact, he bloody killed it for me. Like I said, _luck_. I'm actually not sure why I qualify as having defeated him, because he technically killed himself by accident. Yes, yet another rebounding Killing Curse. Though this one wasn't from my mother's love, it was... some bizarre matter of the ownership of a certain wand. Don't ask. Even I get muddled if I think about it too much.

"And you know what? You had no reason to believe you'd get someone qualified. You could've wound up with a 'me' still in nappies - I'm sure that, if there are alternate worlds, there's one where Voldemort really did die for good that Halloween night. Hell, you could have got one where I really _did_ turn out to be an insane juvenile Dark Lord, like half of England seemed to think a good deal of the time, and you got me right after I killed the other competitor for the top seat. You'd certainly have gotten someone qualified _to beat Voldemort_ then, but it wouldn't be an upgrade.

"So what I'm asking is - Why didn't you order yourself a second Dumbledore? _Albus_ Dumbledore, I mean. With your luck, you'd have gotten Aberforth. Or worse. But really - if Voldemort cowers at the sight of one Albus Dumbledore, shouldn't two make him consider moving to Australia?

"Or you could have called up a Tom Riddle who was actually a _decent_ bloke. Junior, I mean - the Muggle wouldn't have done you much good. I expect that might be more than a match for your version, since the good one wouldn't have mucked with himself so badly and thus would have retained his brains.

"Cor, couldn't you have ordered yourself a live _Merlin_? I know I'm harping, but why _me_?

"Third, you have absolutely no idea whether any knowledge I carried over from my dimension applies to this one. Since I died in this world, and the Order doesn't look quite the same as I remember, there's obviously at least a little difference. But I don't know _how much_. I was still named Harry Potter, rather than... Elvendork Ignotus Evans, or something... so I guess there's some similarity. But, again, I don't know _how much_.

"I'll happily turn over what knowledge I have to this world's Dumbledore and whoever else he wants to trust. But they could be thorough dead ends. For instance, say there were... certain... relics of Voldemort in my world that I had to destroy, right? Now, I'm not saying whether there were or not. But say there were - then _I have_ \- er, I _would_ have - absolutely no idea whether their hiding-places were the same. Or even whether the _relics_ were the same. I only knew their locations because of that chunk of soul in my head which _I don't have any more_ \- and it wouldn't help if I did, on account of how _it wouldn't connect to this world's Voldemort_. Again - I am not _your_ Chosen One, I have no knowledge of _your_ world and _your_ Voldemort, and I don't know _what_ you were thinking.

"In conclusion - I'm very sorry, and I'll contribute what information I can, but I very likely can't help you, and I seriously recommend returning me home and trying again. With loads more forethought this time."

There was a prolonged and awkward silence. The alternate Dumbledore seemed suddenly preoccupied with fiddling with his beard. "Mr. Potter," he said at length, "I fear this ritual is, as you might say, one-way..."

The burst of profanity that followed was enough to appall a troll.


End file.
